


waves set aflame

by ymnkn



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Child Abuse, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, i almost wrote aangst just so you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2020-10-14 17:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20604347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymnkn/pseuds/ymnkn
Summary: Zuko’s uncle tells him that what doesn’t kill him makes him stronger, and he just wants to scream—if it’s supposed to make him stronger, why does he feel so weak?





	1. prologue i guess

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh so soulmate au zukka. sorry sokka. tw for chapter one: child abuse, homophobia, referenced/implied parent death, suicidal thoughts
> 
> whoops. we’ll see what happens i guess, this was really out of nowhere for me to write like i never write soulmate fics but i NEEDED this
> 
> hopefully ppl enjoy, i’ll try to get out a real chapter soon!

His name is Sokka, no last name to speak of, and he is of the Southern Water Tribe.

And today, February eleventh, his sixth birthday, he feels pain like he never has before.

#

“_Mom,” _ Sokka gasps suddenly at the fire. It is not yet noon, and the birthday celebrations have yet to begin. The child holds his hand to his throat, his eyes wide and teary, and he chokes out a sob.

This, of course, alarms not just his mother but everyone within view, and the kid is surrounded in seconds.

“Sokka? Baby, what’s happening? Can you talk?” his mother asks, setting a hand on his shoulder.

Sokka lets out another cry, shakes his head. “Burns, mom, it _ burns so bad, _ I—” he gasps, breathes deep. She instructs him to show her where it burns, and he shakes his head. He won’t take his hand off of his neck for several minutes, until eventually the burning calms.

When he stops crying, he lifts his chin to reveal his neck and the angry red splotch covering his skin.

“Nothing happened,” he admits later, in the dark of night, “it just suddenly felt like I put my neck on the fire.”

It keeps happening throughout the next few days, and by the end of the week his body is covered in pink marks. It doesn’t happen again for months, and the pattern continues for years.

When he is thirteen and a half years old, he receives the first phantom injury that causes real damage beyond pink marks and burning pain.

It is morning, so early that the sun has yet to rise, and Sokka wakes up screaming bloody murder. His skin is practically _ melting off of his eye and ear and— _

He can’t hear or see on his left side _ at all _for weeks, and it barely goes away even after two years. The scar doesn’t, either.

He misses his mom. He worries about his soulmate.

###

Zuko doesn’t think he has a soulmate. Six, eight, ten—he hasn’t felt a thing.

When he’s twelve and (almost) a half, his leg stops working. He doesn’t feel pain, it just _ stops. _ He wastes the next three hours sitting in bed staring at his nonfunctioning leg.

He finds out from his uncle that evening that his soulmate must’ve broken a bone. That is also the day that he finds out he _ does _ in fact have a soulmate, and the reason he didn’t feel pain was because his soulmate felt more emotional pain than physical—thus, the reason for constant heart pain and stomach aches. His leg is better the same night, it starts to hurt but it works, and.

Zuko cries for the first time since his mother disappeared that night, remembering all the pain his father put him through. He remembers being six, months after his birthday, and the first day of school. A boy kissed him, that day, because he thought Zuko was fun, thought Zuko was _ cute, _ and Zuko remembers getting pulled out of school the very same day and the fire that had come from his father’s lips when he was being scolded. He remembers the first burn, the first hurt his father put him through, and he can’t _ breathe _ because he’d put another person through that, he’d put another person through the punishment that only he should receive because he went and kissed a boy.

He doesn’t eat for a week after that.

When he is burned in the Agni Kai months and months later, the pain goes away faster than a burn ever has before. Almost like being healed, he thinks, and he doesn’t tell a soul. His soulmate—Zuko closes his working eye and tries not to cry because tears have salt and salt _ burns _ and imagine burning a burn. He aches and he aches and, and he wonders how different his life would be if his father loved him.

He was supposed to die in the Agni Kai. He was fated to die. Agni saved him, and Zuko just wishes he was dead.

_ (His uncle tells him that what doesn’t kill him makes him stronger, and he just wants to scream—if it’s supposed to make him stronger, why does he feel so weak?) _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this chapter. (shoot me a comment if you think otherwise, i’m happy to add any warnings you need)

“Sokka,” Katara complains for the hundredth time in an hour—no, not even, probably more like a  _ minute. _ “You’re walking too fast! I’m tired,” his sister whines, “aren’t you supposed to be good at hunting? Hurry up and finish already! I wanna go home.”

Sokka holds back a sigh and glances at the girl, resigned to the answer before he even asks, “Which is it, slow down or hurry up? Make up your mind.”

“Sokka!” she complains again. “My feet hurt. Gran Gran was right, I should’ve let you go yourself,  _ ugh, _ why do you love to make me suffer? I bet—oh, hey, what’s that?”

She stops complaining to point at a glacier. Iceberg. Something. Whatever. Sokka doesn’t care about terminology at this point.

He raises a single eyebrow. “Are you telling me you don’t know what a glacier is?”

“Iceberg,” Katara corrects absentmindedly, “and of course I know, but  _ look  _ at it. It looks like it was carved or something.”

Sokka zones out, looking around himself to see if there’s any chance he’d find something to hunt. There’s nothing, of course, it’s hardly been a minute since he last checked but you can never be too sure and, anyway, he—

“Sokka! Are you even listening?!” Katara shouts in his ear, drawing his attention back to the girl, who, as always, is throwing a fit. He rolls his eyes at her antics, muttering something under his breath about hormonal fourteen-year-olds. It’s not like he’s any better, being fifteen himself, but still. If she’s allowed to be annoyed with his hormonal rages, he’s allowed to be annoyed with hers, so there.

When he’s done explaining his own thoughts to himself, he looks at the glacier—iceberg—and almost chokes on his own breath when he sees the crack slowly making its way up the ice.

“Katara,” he says, but she’s too far gone. “Katara!” he repeats when pieces start falling off, and he only barely manages to grab her in time to shield her from the. The explosion? What?

He doesn’t think about it much further when Katara uses her freak magic to make a dome around them, or something like that, he can’t exactly think with everything and—everything goes quiet all of the sudden.

There was a boy in the iceberg.

###

“Uncle,” Zuko breathes, “did you see that?”

Iroh hums, his eyes closed. “Yes, my nephew. I’m sure that’s just the celestial lights. Don’t get your hopes up, okay? You’re always setting yourself up for a letdown . . . here, why don’t you have some tea? Just brewed it—jasmine.” His uncle holds a teapot up with a smile.

“You don’t get it, Uncle! This could be my chance to finally go home, I don’t want to let it pass by because I sat down to drink  _ tea _ with my hippie uncle! We need to see what it is. Head in the direction of the lights! We’re going to see what’s happening, whether it’s the Avatar or not.”

Iroh sighs, pouring himself a cup of tea and humming a tune under his breath. He sighs again when he takes his first sip of tea, a smile aimed toward his nephew. “Ah, tea in the cold is always much better! I wonder what it is—the warmth of the tea, perhaps, warming me up in the freezing temperatures? Or maybe tea steeps better in the cold. Hmm. Would you like some, Zuko? I have a cup, just for you, if you’d like!”

Zuko groans and turns away. Why must his uncle be the most immature man in the  _ entire _ world? He huffs out a curse, ignoring the immaturity of his own thoughts as he glares into the distance where the light is just disappearing.

He stares at it, and he wonders.

Is this it? Is it over? Can he go home? He feels his hands shake, feels his eyes burn, and wonders if this is the last day he has to dream of going home. If this is the last day he has to go on like this. He takes a breath, and accepts his uncle’s offer of tea. This could be it.

#

When they get to the area where the light was before, there is nobody there. But, and this part feels important to him and he uses it in his explanation as to why they must keep searching, there are shards of ice and broken clumps of snow everywhere. As if there was a fight, or an explosion, or—

Or the Avatar.

Zuko grins triumphantly, ignoring the pangs in his chest and the stinging of his toes that he knows aren’t his own pain, because he’s learning to pretend his soulmate doesn’t exist.

Who would love someone like him, anyway? He isn’t ready to have a soulmate, and he wonders often if he ever will be. He ignores these thoughts once again, commanding his uncle and soldiers to follow him to find the Avatar, because he knows that if he can just catch this person . . . if he can just restore his honor . . .

Maybe then, maybe then, he can find his soulmate.

He refuses to take into account the idea that he’ll meet his soulmate before then, he refuses, and he breathes slowly.

He will find the Avatar, he will get his family back, he will. Because he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself if he doesn’t. Because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to live a life alone, a life without honor, a life without—without—

He takes a deep breath.

He will.

#

Hours pass with no luck, a day passes. In the early hours of the morning, the sun slowly coming into view above the horizon, Zuko’s mission comes to an end. Or, he’s sure it will. He  _ found _ the Avatar. And the Avatar would be a hundred by now, anyway, right? It’ll be easy, easy!

They crash into the ice, and Zuko has to hold back on reprimanding his helmsman, has to ignore the damages made.

(He doesn’t really want to damage anything or bring anyone else into it, he just wants the Avatar. He keeps telling himself this, tries to force memories of how his father’s version of things would go, tries to ignore the voice in his head telling him it won’t be so easy.)

“Where is he?” Zuko demands, stepping off of his ship with smoking hands. Just a scare tactic, if he’s being honest with himself.

A boy his age with a face hidden in paint that Zuko distantly recognizes seeing on some prisoners brought into the city in his childhood. The boy shouts something almost indiscernible, raises an arm, and  _ throws _ a.

A weirdly shaped piece of metal? Zuko frowns, stepping out of the weapon(?)’s path. He glances at the boy’s eyes, notes the children huddled around an old woman behind him, the girl standing in front of them all with a scowl on her face.

And he  _ chokes _ because something smacks against the back of his head, and the boy in front of him shouts out in pain as well and—

Nobody moves. Nobody moves.

Zuko stares, the boy stares, and he can hear a delighted gasp behind him, sees in his peripheral vision the girl and old woman staring at the boys in terror and.

Nobody moves. Nobody breathes a word. And they stare.

###

Sokka’s soulmate. Sokka’s—he has a soulmate. His soulmate is—his soulmate is a  _ fucking firebender _ who is trying to.

Sokka breathes slowly, stands up straight just in time to see Aang in the corner of his eye—the one he can still see out of—and he can feel his arms trembling, the paint on his lips cracking off in the cold.

The firebender steps back slowly.

“I guess—the Avatar, um, they’re not here. Let—let’s, um, leave. We’ll find the Avatar somewhere else. They. Um. Um.”

Sokka stares at him, frozen in place, and he watches the firebender—his  _ soulmate, _ his fucking soulmate—stumble onto his boat and he watches as his soulmate orders his helmsmen to sail away. He hardly acknowledges the burning pain in his chest, or the bruise he feels forming on his knee from his soulmate falling.

And when the boat is just far enough he can barely see it anymore, he hears yelling, shouting, crying. His throat stings, his head aches, and.

And it is dark when he starts to cry, too.

It is dark when he falls to his knees, when he starts to sob uncontrollably, and it is dark when he pushes away everyone trying to comfort him and he  _ runs, _ runs away.

He can’t do this. He can’t do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m so sorry guys gajdbskdbskfbdk
> 
> ALSO I WROTE THIS ENTIRE THING AN HOUR OF WRITING (combined writing sessions, not all at once) AND IM HAPPY ABT IT OOF


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A boy who walked away from his soulmate, away from a potential village raid, just to pretend he never met his fucking soulmate, to pretend he never saw the other in the first place.
> 
> A boy who cried all night, a boy who has been hurt and hurt and hurt, a boy who is just as hurt by his soulmate’s identity as Sokka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am aware that it has been months, yes. ily guys 💕💕 oh also i turned 17 last week! hbd me!!
> 
> trigger warnings for chapter 3: anxiety attack, mentions of war, lots of repetition, lmk in the comments if anything else should be tagged
> 
> stay safe everyone !

“Zuko,” Iroh tries to soothe his nephew, “Zuko, what’s the matter? It’s your soulmate, child! You–”

“You don’t understand, Uncle!” the prince shouts, shoving Iroh’s arm off of him. “You–you aren’t–don’t–”

Zuko starts trembling uncontrollably, unable to keep a hold on the ship’s railing. “We–we, I’m–”

He chokes on his words, his grip tightens on the railing, and he doubles over on the floor hyperventilating.

“Nephew, Zuko, Zuko,” Iroh mutters, getting to the floor beside him, “Calm down, hey.”

“I c–ca–c–can’t h–ha–ve, I can’t–he–I c–an’t focus o–o–on–on a soulmate, I can’t, I,” Zuko gasps out. “I ca–can’t.”

“You can’t what, Zuko? Speak sentences,” Iroh instructs, rubbing Zuko’s back.

The prince shakes his head, and he shakes, and he shakes and he can’t  _ feel _ anything and all he can hear is ringing in his ears and his vision is going in and out and everything–everything is–

He takes a deep breath, too deep, and he chokes on the air like poison, chokes on his words, and he  _ can’t. _ He can’t.

So he shakes his head, again, again, and he barely processes the salty burning of tears through his panic. His head is pounding and he can vaguely feel a pang of  _ hurt _ in his chest, his lungs, his knees, and he can tell that it isn’t just his own.

He feels the frostbite nipping at his toes and he feels the icy shock of breathing going through his throat and he knows, a little bit, he knows that boy is feeling it too.

Zuko doesn’t come back to himself until the sky is long past dark and his head is aching and his body is stiff and there is cold tea in a mug beside his leg. He is breathing slowly, and he is cold. He watches the tea spill over his foot, and he doesn’t move to stop it.

He stares at the puddle of tea on the floor, and he hurts.

There is nobody around him.

He is alone.

He is  _ alone. _

###

The sun is coming up when Sokka stops walking, and he barely registers the snow in his boots or aching, burning pain in his hips from walking for so long without food or water. He stares uncomprehendingly at his surroundings for tens of minutes until, inevitably, he slides down to lay on the ground. His eyes burn, his mouth is dry, his ears are ringingringingringing so loud he can’t hear his own wheezing breath as the tears start up again.

He thinks about the war, he thinks about his dad, about his mom, about his sister, and he cries.

He thinks about the war and he bites a hole in his cheek trying to keep quiet.

A hundred years of petty dick wars and Sokka. Sokka’s soulmate and.

They can’t be together. They can’t feel the same love Sokka’s parents felt for each other. They can’t feel the same euphoria of being together for life. They can’t go through the same things  _ together, _ they can’t go through the pain of dealing with bothersome family members poking at their soulmateship, they can’t  _ be together  _ because–

The stupid war that’s lasted a century for  _ nothing _ ruined the only thing Sokka had to look forward to in his life at this point.

He isn’t stupid and he isn’t an optimist, either. He doesn’t believe he’ll ever get to see his dad again. He knows he won’t see his mom. He doesn’t know if Katara will ever get married or master her bending, he doesn’t know if he or anyone in his family will have kids because of this stupid war since no men are around anymore and–meeting and loving his soulmate was the only thing he could look forward to realistically, and the war managed to ruin that too.

And, fuck, but.

It really had to be the son of the Firelord, huh? It really had to be one of the few people in the world he couldn’t logically be with, huh? It had to be someone Katara would never accept, his father would never accept and.

Sokka refuses to admit that he is only upset about his soulmate being Fire Nation because of his family. He refuses to think about how he’d be okay if only they never killed off half of the South’s population. If only it was some stupid earthbender with an ugly smile and good sense of humor and fluffy hair instead of.

Instead of the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, with a mostly shaved head, a dumb ponytail, a scar (that matches his own) across his face, with red silk clothes and stupid heeled boots, with no scarf or hat or furs, a boy who breathes fire.

A boy who walked away from his soulmate, away from a potential village raid, just to pretend he never met his fucking soulmate, to pretend he never saw the other in the first place.

A boy who cried all night, a boy who has been hurt and hurt and hurt, a boy who is just as hurt by his soulmate’s identity as Sokka.

Sokka breathes shallowly through his nose, rubs at numb skin and he doesn’t even notice when he falls asleep, laid in the snow.

He dreams of marigolds and red dahlias.

He dreams of things he’ll never experience, and he forgets it all when he wakes up.

He doesn’t forget the heart wrenching  _ pain _ he’d felt the previous day. He doesn’t forget the pain his soulmate was still feeling long,  _ long _ after he began to calm down.

“Katara? Aang?”

“Hm?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to find my soulmate. Will you help me?”

###

Zuko wonders what the point is of searching so hard when it’s clear he might never go home.

But if there’s even a one-percent chance of restoring his honor and reclaiming his crown, he will take the risk. He will wander and he will search and he will fight until he can go home, until he can go back to his family. Then–then he can bring his soulmate home.

Except, what if his family doesn’t want him back?

(What if his soulmate doesn’t forgive him?)

**Author's Note:**

> made a zukka server for ppl 19 and under if anyone’s interested!! [here's the post!](https://ymnkn.tumblr.com/post/187802196424/hey-i-made-a-zukka-discord-server)


End file.
